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USA250 Journal Project
Personal Chronicle: July 4, 2025 – July 5, 2026
A gift for reflection. A record of now. A story for what’s next.
✍️ “Who am I?”
I’m Shay. No last name. No pronouns for capitalism to chew on.
They/them, if you must.
Zine-maker, space-holder, rage-distributor, half-feral houseplant.
I grew up with rules that didn’t fit and systems that demanded obedience or disappearance. So I disappeared. Then reappeared louder, queerer, hungrier.
Now I co-run Burn the Blueprint—part art, part scream. We print it at the infoshop and leave copies in bathroom stalls and bus shelters.
Annie draws. I write. We don’t put our names on it. Not because we’re scared—but because we want the work to breathe without ego.
Who am I?
Someone trying not to go numb.
Someone building the world I needed at seventeen.
Someone who sees Annie’s brilliance and won’t let her waste it.
✍️ “How did I get here?”
I got here through the back door. Through youth shelters, queer collectives, bad landlords, good weed, stolen library time.
I never fit into classrooms, but I learned everything I needed from punk shows and protest kitchens. From poets who printed pamphlets instead of waiting for publishers.
I met Annie when she spilled coffee on a stack of unpaid flyers and apologized like it was a felony. She looked tired. Her eyes were art. I asked if she could draw ghosts. She said yes.
We’ve been making zines ever since.
She still doesn’t get how good she is. Still acts like staying small is safer. I don’t blame her. But I won’t let her disappear, either.
What has life taught me?
That visibility can be a weapon—and a wound.
That softness is a right, not a reward.
And that revolution is slow, handmade, and still possible.
Friends & Associates
Annie Sullivan – Friend and roommate.
